’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. “But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. “These are the playgrounds of life. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense.
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